


the spaces in togetherness

by toxica939



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 06:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toxica939/pseuds/toxica939
Summary: "People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what people want. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention."-Elizabeth Gilbert





	the spaces in togetherness

His head's pounding again. Like his brain's got it's own pulse in his skull, splitting pain down the back of his neck and bleeding stiffness across his shoulders. He feels sick with it half the time, can't seem to sleep it off.

“You alright love?” his mum asks. She's worried about him, she's always worried about him. But the bacon sarnie and weak brew on the table say she's really worried this time. Great.

Aaron fights the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It wont help. Nothing helps. “Just a headache.”

Red sauce drips onto his plate when he takes a bite of the sandwich, loud enough to make him flinch.

His mum puts a hand across his forehead. “Another one? You need to get yourself checked out, love. You look terrible.”

Aaron scoffs. “Thanks.”

She flutters about for a bit, moaning at him about how she's just looking out for him. But she's like an annoying fly buzzing in his ear, dropping in and out of focus. When he tries to follow the thread of the conversation he finds he can't.

He needs to go back to bed.

:::

“God, you look even worse than Robert,” Vic says, but she pours him the pint he asked for anyway.

“You what?”

“Robert,” she says. “He had the world's worst hangover this morning, and you look even worse.”

Aaron has barely set eyes on Vic's brother since he rolled back into town and set up shop at Home Farm, it's not as though Aaron has any reason to go out that way. But seeing as he does _actually_ feel like utter shit, he just shrugs. He's not here for a chat.

He retreats to a quiet corner of the pub to drink his beer in peace. He knows what he looks like, turtled up in his hoodie, dark smudges under his eyes. It's enough to stop any one coming over, so he takes the opportunity to close his eyes.

By the time he's finished his pint and flicked through the paper that's been left on his table, his headache has finally eased off a little. He can blink without it hurting and rolling his head on his neck feels better than he can ever remember it doing. Maybe all he needed was a drink and a proper rest. The garage _has_ been mental the last few days, it's not that surprising it's taken it's toll.

He heads up to the bar for another drink, clocking Vic on the far side. She's talking to her brother, to Robert, heads bent together while Robert's girlfriend laughs at them and sips her wine.

Aaron doesn't think Robert look hungover. Tired maybe, and he's got a coffee cup in his hand, but he looks fine. Good even.

“Vic,” he calls. “Can I get another?”

Vic waves him over, reaching across the bar to take his empty glass from him.

“Alright, mate?” Robert asks. He's got eyes like shallow water and something about them on Aaron is making him feel hot under the attention.

“Aaron,” he says, for lack of anything better to offer. He feels shy, inexplicably uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. His head's clear for the first time in weeks and he almost misses the distracting buzz when Robert grins at him; two rows of perfect white teeth. A wolf's grin.

“I know. Robert, Vic's brother,” he stretches a hand out, leaning past the girlfriend.

Robert's hand is hot in his; big. It makes the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, like static electricity through his body, snapping his spine straight.

Aaron pulls back like he's been burnt, only to find Robert doing the same, both of them shaking their fingers out. Aaron takes a step back, heart banging in his chest, 10k in and short of breath.

“Are you okay?” the girlfriend asks Aaron, hand tentatively pressed to his arm. There's a glittering ring on her finger.

He nods even though he's not, even though the ground has turned to quicksand beneath him and the air is like syrup in his lungs. He has the overriding feeling that Robert is too far away, which is horrifying enough that he turns and leaves without another word.

It's cold outside, icy pinpricks on his burning face. He slumps against the wall by the door.

There's a shift in the air before Robert appears in front of him. “What the hell was that?”

Aaron's head is tilted back, but he manages a glare through the slits of his eyes. “Don't know what you're talking about.” When in doubt: indifference.

“Chrissie was just being nice.”

Aaron shrugs. He doesn't need to explain himself to this jumped up little wanker, all puffed up in his fancy shirt. He doesn't even know where he'd start. He wants to fit himself to the curve of Robert's chest, see if he's as warm as he looks. He's losing his fucking mind.

Robert huffs and puffs for another moment before he deflates, sneer softening to something more appealing. It's not just that he's fit, it can't just be that he's fit. Aaron's seen fit blokes before, it's never made his blood boil.

Robert's eyes go liquid, wondering. “Did you-”

Whatever Robert's about to say, he doesn't want to hear it. Aaron's had his enough good looking straight boys to last a life time. He elbows his way past, ignoring Robert's outraged little squark.

Whatever it is that's simmering under his skin doesn't matter. He'll walk it off.

:::

The headache's back by tea time.

“Did you get yourself to the doctor?” his mum asks. She's stood in the kitchen, hovering over him while he tries to force his chips to stay in his rolling stomach.

“Yeah,” he lies. “Said I was fine. Just tired.”

Her lips purse for a second. “Well get yourself up to bed then. I'll bring you some pudding up.”

He doesn't want pudding, but he wants a row even less so he goes. His bed is a welcome comfort from the ache of holding himself up, but rolling on to his side and closing his eyes brings no relief.

He's there though, waiting for Aaron behind his closed eyelids. Robert Sugden and his smirk, finger combed hair and the heat of his hand in Aaron's.

Aaron wishes him away, wishes for sleep.

But when has Aaron ever got anything he wished for?

:::

The last person Aaron's expecting when he rolls out from under the car is Robert. He'd heard footsteps crunching up the path, heard them pause beside him.

He should have known, he thinks, because his brain's gone quiet.

Aaron holds a hand up to shield his eyes against the chalky white sky. “Cain's on lunch.”

Robert nods. He's got a coffee cup in each hand, poncy little scarf around his neck. “I'm here for you, actually.”

“Oh yeah? Why's that?”

Robert looks away, sharp breeze ruffling his hair, jaw pulling taut. He's like something out of a catalogue. Aaron hates that it's making his mouth water.

He holds out one of the coffees when Aaron sits up, and he takes it before he can think of a reason not to. “I'm testing a theory,” Robert says. He goes to sit on the plastic chair by the wall without permission.

Aaron burns his tongue on the coffee, and he's grateful for the distraction. “You can't stay here.”

Robert glances round. “Why? There's no one else here.”

“I don't want you here,” it's childish and he doesn't care.

His headache is fading to nothing. He want to reach out and push Robert's hair back off his forehead. He needs to put a pin in this right now.

Robert's gaze is piercing, not at all put off. “How's your head?” he asks.

Aaron reels, doesn't answer. His knuckles are bone white around his coffee cup but he can hardly feel the warmth of it.

“Your head,” Robert says again. “You've been having headaches, Vic told me. How's it feel right now?”

It cuts too close and Aaron finds himself on his feet before he can blink. He doesn't know if he's keyed up for a fuck or a fight and he doesn't know if there'd be much difference with Robert. He drags Robert up out of the chair with a fist in the knot of his scarf, coffee tossed aside with a wet splat.

“Whatever you think you know-”

“I know it hurts,” Robert cuts in, hands coming up to shove Aaron off. “I know it keeps you awake at night.”

They're too close, breathing the same fogged air until the space between them is too hot to fog at all.

Oh god. Aaron _wants_ him.

He takes a swift step back, gets some much needed distance between them. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Robert rolls his eyes. “Really? So the last few minutes haven't been the first time you could think straight since the last time we met?” he scoffs sarcastically. “Right. My mistake.”

Aaron stops him with a hand on his chest when Robert goes to brush past him, pushes him back again. “Wait.”

“Why?”

Aaron shakes his head. “I don't...”

Robert's too close again, all of a sudden, chest bumping up against Aaron's overalls, as though a bloke like him wouldn't mind getting his nice coat dirty. It makes Aaron sway on his feet though, the low throb of desire he's been nursing every time he thinks about Robert roaring to life in startling technicolour.

Robert's hands find his hips, fingers biting, and his mouth is within reach when he speak. “Yeah. That's what I thought.”

Aaron feels drugged, high on the sudden lack of pain and all his blood running south. He couldn't speak, even if he had the words.

Robert's forehead comes to rest against his own, it blurs his face, and the line of intimacy between them. They're not two blokes who barely know each other any more, if they ever were. Robert's sigh is weary, the sigh of someone easing off their shoes after a long day, it makes Aaron's chest take flight.

“How are you so calm about this?” Aaron asks, hands rubbing up the back of Robert's arms without his permission.

He's never embraced someone like this, never let himself be cradled against someone else's chest. Why does it feel like the most normal thing he's ever done? Like he's finally settled right in his skin.

“I'm not,” Robert says. “It's you, you calm me down.”

It's a fight to keep his eyes open, a fight not to tip up on to his toes and fit their mouths together.

“We can't do this,” Aaron says, when Robert gathers him in even closer.

“I don't think we have a choice,” Robert says, and he's right, the pull is growing stronger the longer they stand there.

It takes everything in Aaron to pull away. It feels wrong, right through him, to stumble back and out of Robert's arms. This is insane. They are not doing this. He can't believe he dropped his guard far enough to let this happen, let Robert touch him like he had a right.

“It's not happening, mate,” he says, hands in fists in his pockets.

Robert goldfishes at him for a minute, like he's never been turned down before.

It's handy, because it riles Aaron for a different reason, and he clings to the flicker of irritation. “Whatever you think this is, it's not, alright? Not interested.”

 

He's kicking himself in bed that night, when the headache creeps back in behind his eyeballs.

:::

His mum fixes him with a look across the bar. She's pouring Aaron's fourth pint in a hour and he looks like death so he can't say he blames her.

“What?”

She wavers, biting her lip. “Tell me to keep my nose out,” she says, more tentative than Aaron's ever known her be. “But, have you met someone?”

“No.”

She carries on, undeterred. “Because if you have, there's probably something I should-”

Aaron slams his drink down on the bar runner, beer foaming over his fingers. “Well I haven't, so forget it.”

He wonders if one day he'll get too old to storm away from difficult conversations with his mother.

:::

The headache doesn't shift. He gets the odd reprieve, if Robert and his Mrs come into the pub for lunch; a few seconds if Robert passes him in the village.

But for the most part it's getting worse. People have started to notice that his concentration is shot. Cain told him to go home and come back when his brain started working the other day and Aaron hasn't dared go back since.

Nothing's working. It feels like his insides are dying bit by bit, aches and pains creeping in where they weren't before.

It's agony.

:::

Robert's been here. Aaron can sense it.

There's a stack of dirty dinner plates by the sink, Diane's mug on the table. There's a grey jumper over the arm of the sofa and Aaron picks it up.

It's soft in his hands, the same as it had looked stretched over Robert's chest when they passed in the street earlier, studiously ignoring each other. Aaron's body had hummed with awareness though, like the fine hairs on his body were drawn to the pull of Robert. It had made him shiver, even in his layers.

It's a moment of madness, that's the only explanation for it, but he brings it up to his face, inhales the fading scent of expensive cologne over unfamiliar fabric softener. He doesn't understand the way his knees go weak, but he sinks down onto the sofa when he can't keep standing.

This isn't who he is, mooning over some practically married bloke. He doesn't even like Robert, he doesn't _want_ to like Robert. But he can't seem to stop himself, breath fogging damp between the material and his chin while his heart picks up.

It smells good, but it's not even that, it's that the buzzing in his head has quietened, like it did the other day. Makes him feel lighter than he has in weeks, like his jaw can finally unclench, like he's floating.

God, he's tired. He tucks his legs up, stuffing the jumper under his head, hand coming up to hold it against his face. He shouldn't be doing this, it's ridiculous, but the relief of it not hurting to breathe is too much to pass up.

He'll just close his eyes for a minute.

:::

He comes to slowly, too warm, more comfortable that he's felt in ages despite the way he's pretzeled up on the sofa. He takes a moment to bask in it, stretch minutely, make all the sleepy grunts and groans of a good night's sleep before he blinks his eyes open.

Robert's sitting on the coffee table, arms braced across his knees, line between his eyebrows like Aaron is a puzzle he's working on. He's close enough to touch.

Aaron freezes. He wants to ask what Robert's doing here, but his mouth wont work. There's comfort streaking through every nerve of his body, that same bone deep satisfaction he'd felt when Robert stepping in against his chest the other day. Like everything was wrong, and now it's right. His head doesn't hurt, his stomach isn't rolling. His palms burn to fit themselves to the sharp lines of Robert's jaw.

“Is that mine?” Robert asks, nodding to the jumper under Aaron's head.

Aaron's face flames, but Robert doesn't sound like he's accusing him of anything, so he steels himself. “Yeah.”

Robert nods, hand rubbing at his mouth. “Did it help?”

“Help what?”

Robert rolls his eyes. “Let's not do this. We both know something's going on here, my head feels like it's about to split down the middle every time we're not in the same room.”

It deflates Aaron; the honesty, the shared pain. He'd known it wasn't just him but it's different to hear Robert say it.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He feels too vulnerable lying down like this, so he pushes to sitting, Robert's jumper balled between his hands. He shakes it at Robert. “It helped. I've haven't slept like that in ages.”

Robert laughs, a bitter exhale of air. “I can't remember the last time I slept.”

“This doesn't make any sense.”

Robert shrugs helplessly. “No.”

“You don't even like me, and it's not like we can be in the same room as each other for the rest of our lives.”

“I never said I didn't like you,” Robert voice is soft, like a balm over Aaron's tense shoulders. “You panicked.”

Aaron feels like he could do the same again right now if he thought about it hard enough, so he nods. “Yeah.”

“I've never..”

“What?”

Robert shakes his head, frowning like it hurts again, even though this is the clearest Aaron's felt for a long time. “I've never felt anything like that before.”

That clawing need to touch him, the hot ache in his belly because he couldn't get close enough. Aaron's feeling it now, sleepy and sated and still not close enough. He wants to climb into Robert's lap and never leave, spread himself across Robert's chest like the jumper in his hands, see if he can soothe himself for good.

“What about now?” he asks.

Robert gives him a look. “What do you think?”

Aaron think he's terrified.

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

Robert's eyes roll heavenward. “Bloody hell, you are hard work, you know that?”

Aaron eyes him. “It's been said.”

“I'm not being nice,” Robert says, he locks his fingers together between his spread knees. “I'm trying to be honest with you, in case you'll do the same for me.”

It stings because it's true. But Aaron's version of terrified locks him up tight. And he doesn't know how to open up again, he thinks Robert's hands on him would do it but he's too scared to ask.

“I don't know what you want me to say.”

Robert's voice is gently pleading. “Just tell me I'm not on my own with this."

“You're not.”

A nods, a soft intake of breath. “I want you.”

Aaron's eyes close. “You're getting married,” he says, because one of them has to. They're talking like they share a secret they can do something with, and it's not that simple.

“It's crossed my mind that she wouldn't need to know,” Robert says, tentatively, like he's testing a theory.

Aaron's insides roll, wrongness bitter in his throat. “Not a chance mate.”

If Aaron has him, he's not going to be able to share, the bones of him know it. The reminder that he hasn't found someone, that he's found someone else's someone, it makes his stomach turn.

“No,” Robert says. “I didn't think you'd go for that.”

They're left staring at each other, Aaron's breath coming too fast. Robert is long lines, folded on to the table top, the scruff of his hair, pink cheeks and the knobbly bones in his wrists. Aaron wants to wrap his hand there, hold on tight enough to bleed the skin white. Every part of him wants to touch. Every moment they share air, the worse it's getting.

He flinches back when Robert reaches for him. “Don't.”

Robert's fingers close on thin air, and his jaw goes tight. “You want me to.”

“I want a lot of things,” Aaron says. “It doesn't mean I get to have them.”

“Aaron-”

“You need to go now, Robert,” he says. Before they do something they can't take back.

Robert doesn't move.

“Please,” Aaron’s fists are in balls on his lap, he's aching in his jeans and he doesn't know how much longer he can hold out for. Robert makes him weak and he hates it.

Robert puts a hand to his forehead. “I've got a work trip tonight. Three days in Swindon. How the hell am I supposed to get through it like this?”

Aaron unzips his hoodie, thrusts it at Robert chest. “Take this.”

Robert stares down at it for a while, glaze flickering between it and Aaron, but he stands in the end. Aaron doesn't move a muscle, doesn't dare. “Is that going to be enough?” Robert asks, nodding at his jumper, still in Aaron hands.

Aaron nods. It has to be. This has to be the solution. Robert's not going to choose him, so this has to work.

Robert's fingers touch his forehead, comb gently through Aaron's hair, just once, like he can't help himself, and then he leaves.

Aaron screws his eyes shut, body on fire. He's so hard he could cry, he wants to cup a hand over his dick, where it's throbbing in his jeans.

_Fuck._

:::

It does work. To a point.

By the end of the three days, the headache's worked it's way back up to fever pitch, and Aaron's never been more grateful for anything than he is to stumble down the stairs the next morning and find Robert standing in the kitchen.

He's wearing Aaron's hoodie and his shoulders relax visibly when he spots Aaron.

Aaron sags against the doorway, pain finally receding. Robert is like a wave of peace coming over him, it makes him want to curl up beside him and bask in it.

Robert bends to put his hands on the table, blowing out a breath. “Oh thank God. I nearly crashed the fucking car getting back here.”

“You've not been home?”

“No, I came straight here. I needed to see you.”

It shouldn't light him up the way it does. “You alright?”

Robert laughs. “No. You?”

“No.”

Robert sinks into a chair like his strings have been cut, puts his head in his hands. “I don't know how much longer I can take this for.”

Aaron's too tired for this. “I was alright for the first day or so, maybe we just need to keep up the clothes swapping thing, go from there.”

Robert meets his gaze, eyes sharp enough to have Aaron swaying on his feet. “Or maybe we just need to get it out of our systems.”

It shudders Aaron's breath still in his lungs, gut clenching. He wants to. Lord knows he wants to, he doesn't think he's ever wanted anything so badly.

“We can't,” he says.

Robert groans, hands grinding into his eye sockets. “Why not?”

“I won't be able to give you back,” it chokes Aaron to admit it. “It'll make it worse.”

“For you maybe.”

“Fuck off.”

Robert holds his hands up, loosening back up into the cocky little shit Aaron knows he is deep down. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding,” his voice softens, eyes serious. “I get it.”

So leave her, Aaron wants to say. Why wont you just leave her and _have_ me?

Except, Robert's got a whole life up there, hasn't? Lord of the manor. He's hardly going to give that up to shack up with Aaron above his mum's pub, blinding headache or no blinding headache. They barely know each other. Just because Aaron's never felt as alive as he does whenever he's with Robert doesn't mean they wouldn't still be a disaster. He's mistaking whatever this is for actual feelings and it needs to stop.

“Come on then,” he says. “Come upstairs, I'll bag you up some stuff. Have you got anything on you?”

Robert leans back to grab a hold all off the kitchen floor. “Mostly work shirts and stuff, but it's the best I can do.”

It feels weird to have Robert in his room. Like he should be self conscious of the mess; dirty plates and cups on various surfaces from days huddled in bed trying to fill up the gaping hole in his chest when Robert should be.

He swallows hard. He doesn't look at Robert in case the image of him loitering beside Aaron's bed is too good for him to forget. It's happening again, the slow build up of heat the longer they're together, like once the headache's gone whatever this is can really work its magic.

He grabs some dirty t shirts up off the floor. He needs to get this done and get Robert gone.

Robert stills him with a hand on his arm, boxes him back into the corner. “Tell me I'm not the only one who feels that.”

Aaron can't breathe, can't get a clean breath. Robert plants his forearm on the wall by Aaron's head, body a long line hovering inches away. Aaron wants to step forward, press them together, wants to fit his mouth to the flicker of Robert's pulse in his throat. He _aches_ with it.

Robert's mouth is close enough that Aaron can feel his breath. It drops his eyes closed, and he bits down hard on his lips to keep them to himself.

Robert groans. “Don't.”

“We're not doing this,” Aaron says. He sounds breathless, like he's already been kissed.

“I don't know how to stop it.” Robert sounds wrecked, and he looks it when Aaron opens his eyes. Lost, and broken open, and Aaron can see him. He can really see him, for the first time. It shifts something in his chest, the tumblers of a lock moving into place, an _oh, there you are_.

“You need to leave her,” he tells Robert, finally letting his hands come up to cup Robert's face, fingers tingling with it. He can't keep it in any more. This is a Robert just for him, he knows it, they both know it. This is where they're supposed to be.

“I can't.”

It's like an ice bath over Aaron, it stings and he's drowning, and between one moment and the next he goes from reeling Robert in to shoving him away.

“Are you joking me?” he shouts. He's angry and he's shaking with it.

Robert's arms flap. “It's not that simple.”

“None of this is simple.”

“I just. I need some time.”

Aaron scoffs, prickling so he doesn't break. He snatches a top back up off the floor to throw at Robert. “Here you go, that should buy you, what? Eighteen hours? Knock yourself out.”

“Aaron listen to me, I know this is-”

“You can go now. You got what you came for.”

Robert shakes his head bitterly. “I didn't.”

“Just go.”

Aaron surveys the mess of his room; Robert's overnight bag on his bed, the vibrating in the air he leaves behind. Aaron wants to chase after him, wants him back as quickly as he wanted him gone.

This time, he thinks the headache creeping in, might be all him.

:::

Robert doesn't come back the next day, or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Aaron goes to look for him on day four, banging on the door of the big house only for no one to answer.

“He'll be at home,” Vic tells him, when he corners her in the kitchen.

“He wasn't.”

“Well I don't know then, I'm not his keeper,” she throws her hands up, eyes narrowing. “Is that his jumper?”

He doesn't answer, just shoves past her and heads for the stairs.

His mum finds him curled up on the bathroom floor in the middle of the night, exhausted from vomiting, but too worked up to sleep. He's wrapped in one of Robert's shirts, shivering where his cheek is pressed to the tile floor.

She starts to call an ambulance before he can blink himself back to awareness, but he manages to grab her wrist. “Don't,” he says.

Her eyes are wide with panic. “You need help, Aaron, look at you.”

“Don't,” he gets out again. “Robert. I need Robert.

Her gaping mouth is swallowed up by darkness.

:::

He's floating.

He's warm, and safe, and nothing hurts. Aaron keeps his eyes closed, doesn’t want to give up the weightless feeling of his bed holding him up, the soft snuggle of his duvet, the blank, ringing silence where there's been banging for days.

There's a grunt, the ripple of the mattress beneath him, and the warm feeling all along his back moves.

Aaron's eyes shoot open but the arm around his waist tightens before he can spring up.

“Stop,” Robert says, voice morning rough. He pulls Aaron back against him, chest like a brand on Aaron's bare skin.

Aaron stops, but he doesn't melt like he wants to. “What's going on?”

There's a sigh, Robert's breath on the back of his neck when he nuzzles in close. “It's a long story, just sleep for now, yeah? We'll talk about it when we wake up.”

Aaron should protest. But he's tired through to his bones, and he's exactly where he wants to be for maybe the first time in his entire life.

So he sleeps.

:::

Robert's sat up against the headboard when Aaron wakes up again. He's still shirtless, thumbing through his phone. His smile when he clocks Aaron watching him is like the sun rising.

The low-level thrum between them hums to life and Aaron licks at his dry lips. He's never been more aware of his own mouth or his own nakedness. He has a quick feel under the duvet to make sure he's definitely still wearing pants.

He starts to sit up but Robert stops him with a hand in his hair. “Don't, you look comfy.”

Aaron is, but he has to close his eyes against the sensation of Robert petting him, the tingle in his scalp spreading through to the rest of him.

“What happened?” he asks.

“What do you remember?”

“Being sick. I think my mum was there.”

Robert nods. “You told her to call me.”

Aaron has a vague memory of that. It doesn't surprise him, his brain's been bleating Robert's name on a loop since they first shook hands. “And she did?” now that, that does surprise him.

Robert looks down, pale lashes against his cheeks. “Chrissie answered. I was pretty in and out by that point.”

Aaron rolls on to his back to look at the ceiling. He doesn't want the ceiling like a missing limb so it's easier. “Right.”

“I told her,” Robert says quietly, and Aaron's head snaps to him like the crack of a whip.

“You what?”

He watches Robert pat down the duvet over his hips. “I told her. That I couldn't be with her any more. I took her out to this cabin we used to go to, in the Lakes. I think I thought it'd be easier to do it somewhere else," h shakes his head. "Stupid. I told her I'm in love with someone else.”

Aaron's lips part. “You what?”

Love. They've never mentioned love. It's need and want and sex, clawing at the back of his throat. But the aching in his chest knows he's a liar. Whatever this is, whatever it's doing to them, his heart wants Robert as much as the rest of him does. That's the bit of him that's been breaking.

“I was trying to pack my stuff when your mum rang, she'd made us drive back in the middle of the night but I could barely think straight. I think she thought I'd taken something.”

“How'd we end up here?” They're tucked up in Aaron's bed for god's sake, none of this makes any sense.

Robert's hand is back in his hair. “Your mum thinks you're my soul mate. Or I'm yours, something like that. She wasn't too clear on the details, I don't think.”

“My mum's mental,” Aaron tells him, trying not to shiver.

“Mmm,” Robert agrees. “But I'm not convinced she's wrong. How else do you explain this?”

Aaron doesn't know.

“The only time I feel like I can breathe is when you're here,” Robert says, like that's something he can just say.

Aaron makes fists of the bedclothes. “But what if it's always like this?”

Robert shrugs. “We'll figure it out.”

He has to say it. They can't do this if he doesn't say it. “I don't want you to be with me just because of this. We can find a way to deal with this either way.”

There's a beat, and then Robert's shuffling down the bed until he's level with Aaron. Aaron meets him half way, rolls onto his side so they can share breath. It makes his head feel quiet even while his stomach churns.

Robert's palm is wide and hot on Aaron's chest, over the aching mess where his heart should be. “Is that why you want me? Because your body does?”

Aaron shakes his head. It is and it isn't. His feelings for Robert are too tied up in his body's reaction to him to prise it all apart. “I don't know. We don't exactly know each other very well.”

“I know that you're stubborn,” Robert says. “And brave, and kind. And beautiful. I know that I want you, isn't that how all relationships start?”

Aaron takes a moment to breathe. “What if you change your mind?”

“What if you do?” Robert pops up on an elbow, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “Aaron, I can't promise you anything here. I'm not a safe bet, I'm a terrible bet. But there's got to be a reason we found each other. Isn't it worth trying, at least?”

Even if there was a way to drown out his body's craving for Robert, Aaron doesn't know that he would. Robert unearths him, turns him inside out. Aaron isn't brave, it's Robert who makes him feel like that.

So he shrugs his mouth, lets his hand trace the curve of Robert's cheek. “What's the worst that can happen?”

Robert's teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he moves like a wave, climbing over Aaron to settle on top of him. Aaron grunts under his weight; skin against skin and the feeling of Robert pressing him into the bed. It settles something in his lizard brain, the bit of him that's been clambering to get under Robert ever since their hands met and his skin set on fire. Aaron thinks he could probably lie here and breathe for another hour before they need to do anything else.

“It feels like that to me too,” Robert's saying. He takes a deep breath, chest crushing into Aaron's like he could push right through. “Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.”

Aaron nods, hands smoothing up Robert's back, sparks and static under his fingers. He feels like Robert should be glowing.

And suddenly the why of it doesn't matter so much any more. There isn't a part of him that doesn't want Robert, that isn't punch drunk and reeling from Robert wanting him in return. It's like vertigo.

He can't wait any more.

“Kiss me,” he urges, when Robert just hangs there, staring at him, breathing him in.

Their lips coming together is like a circuit closing; it sweeps up through Aaron, clenches in a burning fist low down in his belly. The inside of Robert's mouth is scalding, tongues sliding together.

Aaron brings his knees up, riding along Robert's hips because he needs to be closer, every atom of him has been blown wide open, nerve endings shivering for Robert to soothe them. He's writhing against Robert before he can stop himself, and his dick, which has been hard since he woke up, goes from low-level hum to _yes, now, right the fuck now_.

“Fuck,” Robert's gasping, breathy between their lips. “Oh my god.”

Aaron gets his hands up, holds Robert's face close to shut him up, keep the kiss going. Nothing has ever felt this good, he needs Robert with him while he burns.

Robert tears away, leaves Aaron's mouth sore and parted, sucking in lungfuls of air he didn't know he was going without. It forces Robert's hips in tighter against Aaron's own, and Aaron opens himself up more to make room. He'd scoop out his chest, if he could, so that Robert could live inside his skin; one beating, bleeding heart between them.

When Robert's hips start to roll, eyes bright and hot on Aaron's face, he can't take it any more; wrenches his head back into the pillow, chin pulled to the ceiling. He wants to slap at the headboard with how good it feels but he can't take his hands off Robert. Robert's dick is line of heat along his, dry friction through their underwear, Robert moving over him like the lapping of water. It's too much.

He drags Robert back down to kiss him again, while their hips grind together, harder and faster. It's the rhythm of a fuck Aaron doesn't know if he could live through. And that's what does it; the thought of Robert shoved up inside him, taking him to pieces, that's what bursts the dam.

He comes with his whole body, gasping for air like he's surfacing, stomach heaving. He knows when Robert follows him over, just knows it. The kind of bone deep satisfaction Aaron didn't think existed seeping through him. He feels like he's flying.

Aaron can't quite catch his breath, sated and sweaty under Robert's dead weight. The bed feels like it's vibrating. He pats a hand clumsily up Robert back to stroke his hair. “Do you reckon that'll do the trick?'

“What?” Robert picks his head up slowly, hair wrecked from Aaron's wandering hands. He's the sexiest thing Aaron's ever seen, zings an aftershock through Aaron's body, sharp enough to make him wince.

“Maybe it's out of our systems now.”

It doesn't feel like it is, he feels like he could go again right now, but what does he know?

Robert shakes his head on a sigh, fingers gentle on Aaron's cheek while he regards him. Robert's all shoulders like this, blocking out the world. “It doesn't matter,” he says. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“I don't want to give you back now.”

Aaron meets his eyes, that tender, thumping feeling rising through him. “So I'm stuck with you then?”

“Looks like.”

  
  


 


End file.
